


5 times Oliver wore the green swim suit, and 1 time he didn't

by lookingforatardis



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Green swim suit, Longing, M/M, attempted book prose, during cmbyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/pseuds/lookingforatardis
Summary: "He had, it took me awhile to realize, four personalities depending on what bathing suit he was wearing... Green, which he seldom wore: acquiescent, eager to learn, eager to speak, sunny — why wasn't he always like this?"
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	5 times Oliver wore the green swim suit, and 1 time he didn't

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for the prompt tumblr user mariunnnn!

1.

The sun had given way mid-morning to a storm that rolled through on the shore of the water. The air was salty, we stayed inside after the suddenness of it all left us drenched at the poolside. He had gone off with my father and a towel around his neck that periodically swept through his hair. He did not change. I was struck by the boldness to leave a damp suit on while studying, but it didn't seem to bother him.

Armed with a borrow book from my mother, I snuck into the office to watch. A satisfied tug at my stomach consumed my mind when he glanced over to watch me sit in a corner chair, his eyes bright and alive in the way only he seemed to be able to manage. The way he asked questions of my father made it seem as though he was perfectly content in his lack of knowledge, and this exchange was the most important one he had ever had. I was entranced. He moved about the room with rough eagerness as he jotted down notes and flipped through books, his laugh brighter and questions more sincere. He turned to me after an hour of this back and forth and asked my opinion, leaving me slack jawed when he moved towards me with that gentle curiosity he so rarely let me see. I told him what I thought and earned a hand on my thigh in a loud clap that disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

It burned for days when I thought of his touch. 

  
2.

I might not have known he hadn't returned until early in the morning if not for the flush of the toilet waking me, the soft light from the bathroom glaring into my room where he left the door open. I let him sleep through breakfast and wondered when I might see him, if he would disappear again before even saying hello. He disappeared often, it wasn't a stretch.

I was transcribing in my bedroom when I heard his footsteps. I ignored him, better to not show my cards so readily with someone so brash. The touch of his hand on my back made me turn, the sight of his smile stopped me from acting harshly. He was wearing his green swimsuit, and all was well.

What was I doing? Transcribing. How did it work? I could show him, if he wanted. He sat on my bed and waited, nodded in a gesture I supposed meant continue. I asked if he could read music and his sheepish reply was uncharacteristically shy. He asked if I would teach him, and I did so terribly. He was distracting as I sat next to him and played notes on my guitar, gesturing for him to follow along. He was terrible, but he tried in that way he did when my father was explaining something new to him, open eyed and inquisitive and attention fully focused.

His smile was sunny, his voice full of light. I wanted to drown in him when he got something right and lept off the bed with a grin. He was beautiful. 

  
3.

He had been the one to suggest we ride our bikes into town after a swim and, already curious of this other life he lived with us when he disappeared, I followed eagerly. He took me to a field and hopped off his bike, the thing discarded like forgotten trash the instant it left him. Town, it seemed, could wait.

"Have you ever been here?" he asked. Of course, it was halfway between home and Crema. He grinned and nodded, his hands through his perfect hair. We walked into the grass and he stood with his arms outstretched, eyes lifted. I asked him what he was doing and he looked at me. "Thinking."

He must have sensed my curiosity because he continued with words I did not want to forget. "I've been here for a few weeks and already feel completely different. How is it possible to change so much in such little time?"

"Maybe you haven't changed at all," I told him. It earned me a quiet nod as he walked a few feet away before turning back towards me.

"Maybe I want to change. Maybe there's more of me out there than I thought." I was confused, terrified of this honest but coded answer from him. He was attempting to speak truly, but I sensed I would not get clarity from him. He walked towards me, and he touched me, a gently brush of his hand along my arm. Too much, I brushed him off; certainly he would see the way my body turned rigid in desire under his touch.

He gathered his bike and led us back into town. 

  
4.

He swam on his back with more grace than I had ever seen anyone attempt in the water. The lines of his body glistened and I could not help but wonder if they would feel soft or hard if I placed my hands on them. He dipped his head under and gasped upon resurfacing. I wanted to hear that sound alone, suffocate in the desperation of it as he ran his hands through his hair and found my eyes. I looked away. 

His body drifted towards me and he tugged me in with a laugh and a nudge until I, too, was submerged and resurfacing. He was playful today, unlike the cold detachment I was met with the day before when he ignored me at lunch and left at dinner. Today, he was sunny.

When my mother appeared with lemonade, I dragged him out of the water to join me at the tree line. He sat at the edge of the pool with his feet dangling in. Oh if I could touch the arch of his foot with my own. He let me speak about my compositions and asked questions as if he truly cared, and when he laughed, it filled the orchard. It made me bold and when I asked if he would pass the time with me in my father's study before dinner, he agreed without pause.

We read on the couch in the study and he asked me to translate words as he came across unfamiliar ones in Italian. Before we were called by Mafalda, I could almost see his leg moving to touch mine. 

  
5.

He stood in my doorway and watched me read, determined to gather my attention. I was upset with him. He left me at the disco without so much as a goodbye the night before. I hadn't seen who he left with, but I assumed he hadn't gone alone. He swam this morning without me, and was now looking for something to do. He was still damp, his suit clinging to his body. I could not look.

"Elio, are you going to ignore me all day?" he asked, exasperated as he folded his arms. When I said nothing, he scoffed and held himself against the frame of the bathroom. "Elio," he said again. It was tender, so much so that I couldn't breathe. "Fine."

I watched him walk away for only a moment before following into his room, my room, and holding my sides to keep me together. I expected frustration, but he stayed light when he saw that I had come to him. We wandered down the stairs and into the living room where he worked on his manuscript while I played the piano. He stopped me more than once to ask what I was playing, but never pushed too far. 

  
+1  
I laid on my stomach, incapable of moving. His hands were on my hips, his mouth on my spine as he traced each vertebrae with his tongue. I could feel him kick the swim trunks off his body before settling back on the bed behind me. I wanted him the way I wanted air to breathe. His ankle hooked over mine, his lips at my ear. "Fuck me, Oliver," he whispered low in his throat. I could do nothing but groan, push back against him until he turned me over onto my back for me.

He prepped himself as I watched, transfixed as he did exactly what he did to me. It was mesmerizing, and when he leaned over my body and pressed me inside, I prayed to God it would never end.


End file.
